aeppelwoi @ 2010-02-22T12: 27:00
my muse left me ... proved that even a bird: where the wind blows, there she is. and the wind, obviously, not from the sea blew. She leaned in warmer climes in the autumn. say it is now the bread in one opera singer in Spain
and I, as a hibernating fall failed hard given its absence. really looking forward to spring, maybe, back, prodigal the soul?
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